


All Or Nothing

by BewareTheIdes15



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Bets, First Time, M/M, Oral Sex, Piercings, Sibling Incest, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-01
Updated: 2011-07-01
Packaged: 2017-10-20 22:25:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/217737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BewareTheIdes15/pseuds/BewareTheIdes15
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ever since Bobby showed up with the stuff to get them back into their own bodies - the new most awkward moment of Dean's life - things had basically been ok between them. If Sammy, king of We Need To Talk About It Land, didn't want to talk about it, there was probably a reason - and if that reason was that he totally regretted it, well, Dean wasn't really sure that death-by-boner wasn't the better option.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Or Nothing

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Walk A Mile](https://archiveofourown.org/works/217734) by [BewareTheIdes15](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BewareTheIdes15/pseuds/BewareTheIdes15). 



Sam was trying to kill him. That was the only reasonable explanation for the little silver bar laying out on the bathroom counter. There were two little metal beads at the ends and with only one piercing between the two Winchesters, there wasn’t a fucking doubt in Dean's mind where that little bar was supposed to go.

He'd only ever seen Sam with the ring in, but it wasn’t exactly hard - although HE was way too fucking hard - to imagine what it would look like, feel like. Which was why Dean was pretty sure Sam was trying to kill him from lack of bloodflow to the brain.

Ever since Bobby showed up with the stuff to get them back into their own bodies - the new most awkward moment of Dean's life - things had basically been ok between them. They hadn't talked about... whatever it was. Every now and then there were these little moments of 'was he just checking out my ass?' but neither of them had mentioned it, let alone acted on it, so for all intents and purposes, shit was ok.

Well, except for Sammy's recent discovery of the joys of nudity. Which only strengthened the argument that Sam was trying to kill him. His little brother would get out of the shower and just walk into the room to change. It wasn't directed at Dean or anything obvious like that, and it never lasted long enough that he could actually call his brother on it - or jerk off to it, you know, whichever - so Dean was stuck with a raging hard on every night that would have put his thirteen year old self to shame. Sam seemed to be completely unaffected by the sexual tension that Dean would swear he could fucking taste, and that only made things worse.

If Sammy, king of We Need To Talk About It Land, didn't want to talk about it, there was probably a reason - and if that reason was that he totally regretted it, well, Dean wasn't really sure that death-by-boner wasn't the better option.

Dean wanted it. He didn't know why and he didn't want to, didn't want to think about all the reasons he shouldn't want it or couldn't do it. He wanted it. Bad. And as he ran the smooth metal bead at the head of Sam's spare cockstud over his tongue - just to see what it would feel like - he knew that there wasn't any way he could just keep on ignoring this. One way or another he had to do something.

***

Sam should have known Dean was up to something when he'd brought the bottle of tequila to their table in the back of the bar and announced that they were doing shots. Didn't ask, just told Sam they were going to, which wasn't the kind of thing his brother usually did. If Dean wanted to get hammered, he would; maybe he'd offer some to Sam, but he almost never just made him drink - in fact the only times he ever did were when he wanted Sam to do something his brother didn't think he'd want to do. Under normal circumstances Sam probably would have questioned that, but tonight... well maybe he wanted to do something his brother thought he wouldn't want to do.

He KNEW something was up when, four shots in, Dean challenged him to a game of pool. Dean had hustled a lot of pool over the years, but he'd learned most of his skills playing against his baby brother in bars where nobody raised an eyebrow if a guy showed up with two teenage sons and asked weird questions.

Competition came naturally to them - they were brothers after all - and over the years they had developed a system of betting on their games. They would set the stakes before they started, like 'eat 10 Twinkies' or 'speak only in Latin for an hour' and whoever lost had to do it - and if they lost again, they had to do it again. Sam had spent three hours throwing up yellow sponge cake one night when he was 12, but then Dean had spent one long, quiet day a year later trying to figure out how to order a bacon cheeseburger in Latin. It was their standing arrangement - even though they really hadn't played since Sam came back to hunting - so he understood perfectly when Dean tossed him a pool cue and said,

"Secrets."

He asked what Dean meant anyway; after all they had spent like, 90% of their lives within five feet of each other, there weren't that many secrets to be had.

"Well," Dean answered, circling the pool table like a lion stalking its prey, "I found out recently that my little brother has been holding out on me." He flicked a finger at Sam's pants, hitting goddamn perfectly on the stud Sam had put in that afternoon. Was it that fucking obvious?

"Alright, fine," Sam sighed. So maybe he had a few secrets, maybe Dean had a couple too. And that could definitely be worth knowing.

***

An hour and a half later Sam had confessed that he had burned Dean's first cassette of _Back In Black_ and had accidentally cut that hole in the Impala's upholstery with a pen in his back pocket - ok, his pool game was a little rusty. He was kind of surprised Dean was still speaking to him, actually. It probably had something to do with the fact that they were still doing shots. And that was probably also why Dean had finally lost a damn game.

"Ok, um," Dean paused to throw back another tequila, "Oh, I know! Ok, so when you were in 10th grade you dated this girl -"

"Annalee Schwartz. You had sex with her. I know," Sam interrupted, pouring himself another.

"Oh," Dean looked crestfallen, "Ok then, how about... this one time, in Memphis, I was in this bar and -"

"A guy offered you fifty bucks to let him suck your dick," Sam kicked back the shot, "I know, Dean. You know, you brag about your sex life pretty much every time you get drunk. You should probably try something not about sex."

Dean looked genuinely distraught at that, and Sam tried his best to choke back that tiny ember of hope that had been burning down inside of him for weeks. If Dean really wanted him, he would have made a move already - his brother wasn't the type to pussyfoot around what he wanted, especially when it came to sex.

"Ok," Dean leaned back against the pool table, obviously struggling to think through the agave haze, "Oh!" He snapped his fingers and shot Sam that trademark smirk that made him really want to adjust his pants. "I took the SATs."

Out of all the things Sam might have guessed, that was nowhere on the list.

"What?" he sputtered, finally managing to make his voice work.

"Back in high school, I took the SATs," Dean answered smugly, clearly pleased with Sam's incredulity.

"Why?" The idea that Dean had ever considered life beyond hunting had Sam’s mind reeling.

"They sent this hot chick from the community college out to sign people up at school," Dean shrugged. Sam should have known. "I signed up to get her number, figured I might as well take it since I'd already paid for it."

"How'd you do?" Sam asked, shaking his head at the pure Dean-ness of it.

"I don't remember dude," Dean laughed, turning the pool cue between his fingers, "like 2100 or something."

"What!?" Sam almost dropped his shot glass. Dean shrugged.

"I don't know man, it was a long time ago."

"Dean, 2100! That's like, not much lower than what I scored," Sam sat back on a barstool completely flumoxxed. Then something else even more stunning occurred to him, "Did you even study?

Dean gave him a look like that was the dumbest question in the world. Which it probably was - Dean had never studied for anything in his life, at least not anything school related.

"Jesus, you made a 2100 without studying," Sam's voice sounded just as hollow as he felt "You could have, I mean, Dean, do you realize what you could have done with a score like that?"

"Gone off to Stanford and left you alone with Dad?" Dean fired at him, and Sam caught the bitterness under his sarcasm, "You two would have killed each other in a week."

"Yeah," Sam sighed, scraping his shoes on the rough floor, "Yeah, I guess." It was like he was suddenly seeing a whole other side to his brother; what could have been if they hadn't been hunters, if they could have been normal, if Dean hadn't always tried to be the peacemaker. If Dean had been as selfish as Sam.

"Play again?" Dean gave him a classic 'change the subject' smile.

"No, man, I'm done," Sam's brain was swirling with the new information and way too much booze "Let's just, let's just go back to the motel."

Dean looked hurt again, but he didn't argue, just gathered up his jacket and what was left of the tequila and followed Sam out.

***

The motel wasn't far away and since Dean had planned on them getting hammered he'd insisted on walking earlier. Now he was only halfway glad for the fresh air helping to clear his head. This really wasn't the way he had seen things going down. They were supposed to get drunk and say stupid stuff and somehow end up realizing what a brilliant idea it would be to fuck each other's brains out repeatedly. Instead, Sam was pulling his sad, thoughtful face as they walked under blue moonlight silently.

"I dated a guy in college, before I met Jess," Sam said quietly, kicking up gravel. Dean looked at him, somewhere between shocked and confused, but he didn't say anything. "That was when I got, you know..." Sam sort of waved his hand in front of his groin, like he was somehow too embarrassed to actually say it even though Dean had fucking flicked it not two hours before.

"Oh..." Well at least they were kind of back on the right track. Dean tossed the cap to the tequila beside the road. They were finishing that fucking bottle.

"He had one and," Sam stalled out, shaking his head, "God, yeah, anyway."

They walked in silence for a couple of minutes and Dean swore he could physically feel the weight of it on his shoulders.

"What kind of guy was he?" he asked, almost too quiet to be heard. Sam smiled at the ground.

"The kind who wears eyeliner and leather pants that lace up at the crotch," the younger Winchester laughed wryly.

"Oh," Dean felt the shock on his face and couldn't do fucking thing about it.

"What?" Sam finally met his eyes.

"No, it's just," now it was Dean's turn to stare at the ground, "Not really the kind of guy I pictured you with."

"You pictured me with guys?" Sam smirked.

Dean couldn't think of a single thing to say to that that didn't end in the word 'me', so he settled for taking another draw on the tequila.

"Had me figured for another 'geek boy'?" Sam mused, "Or maybe a jock? Somebody tall, muscular, blonde maybe." his voice went deep and soft, "With green eyes?"

"It wasn't the first time I thought about it," It was out of Dean’s mouth before he had a chance to realize it was a fucking stupid idea, but now that he'd said it, he had to at least follow through, take the hits as they came, "When we were switched, you know. I'd thought about it before."

Sam was quiet again for a minute. He bent down and picked up a pebble with those long fingers, bouncing it in the palm of his hand.

"Since when?" he asked the road ahead of them. Dean sighed - all or nothing.

"Since you got big enough that I couldn't just push you around anymore."

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh."

It didn't really matter what Sam thought anymore since Dean was just going to keel over and die on the side of the road from the way his stomach was crumbling into one big burning knot of ache. He felt the pinprick sting of tears in his eyes and took another hit of liquor because his baby brother might not want him but Dean sure as fuck wasn't going to cry about it. At least not in front of him.

"Me too. I think." If there had been another sound for miles Dean would have missed the words.

"You think?" he huffed back at Sam, not daring to look up for fear that Sammy might see the hope in his eyes.

"Well, I never really let myself think about it before then but... I dunno," Sam threw the rock as hard as he could down the road. They both watched it skitter over the pavement. "Once I did it was kinda like, like maybe it had always been there and I just didn't notice before. Like when I was a kid and I kept on growing but I saw myself everyday so I didn't really notice until I couldn't fit in the car right anymore. Or something," he finished lamely. Dean's lungs reminded him suddenly that he had stopped breathing a while back. All or nothing. All or fucking nothing.

"I keep wondering how that ring would feel at the back of my throat," finally, FINALLY, he looked up at Sammy and saw all of the things twisting him up reflected right back in those eyes.

"One way to find out."

***

Dean's mouth, Dean's hands, just fucking Dean was everywhere, all over him, and Sam just wanted to let go and drown in it. Dean's tongue was fucking roughly against his own, driving into his mouth the way he was dying to have his brother’s dick doing inside him. Everything was hotcoldtoomuchnotenough and all he could do was grip onto the short hairs of Dean's scalp and push into him just as rough until both of their mouths would be bruised from it.

He sucked hard on those plump lips because they were begging for it and he'd always wanted to, his hands finding the perfect round slope of Dean's ass and forcing their bodies even closer.

"Need you," he panted, the back of his head grinding against the door and he'd forgotten they were still standing against it, "Need you in me."

He could hear the seams of his shirt popping under the force of Dean's grip as the older man shivered.

"Sammy, fuck," he gasped, "Yeah, ok. Anything baby."

Sam had to close his eyes and bite down hard on his lip to focus again. There was no way Dean calling him 'baby' should make him feel like his spine turned to Jell-o.

Then Dean was on his knees and if Sam didn't know better he'd swear this was all just some plot to make him lose it before they even got started. No one should look that good, that debauched and fucking perfect kneeling like that, green eyes peering up through thick lashes like a dare. Dean had said something about wanting to do this, maybe, Sam thought he remembered, but it was hard to fight through the latent haze of alcohol and the swirling fog of need to really tell what was real and what he'd just dreamed of Dean saying. Whichever it was though, Dean was pulling him out of his jeans, cradling him between two hands and just staring like his dripping, needy cock was the most sacred object he'd ever seen.

Blown green eyes shot up to him again and it was too good to watch and too good to miss as Dean tentatively - when the fuck had Dean ever been tentative? - lapped at the mess of precome slicking the head. Those eyes closed and Dean moaned better than any pornstar in history as that wet pink muscle teased and played at the metal stud in Sam's slit.

The point of Dean's tongue was just barely sliding into the slit beside the metal, caressing the little silver ball from all sides then slowly wrapping his lips around just the stud and sucking so Sam could feel the pull at his hole. He was shaking like a junkie and he wasn't going to be standing much longer because his knees just weren't going to take it.

"Shit," Sam whimpered, two octaves too high, as Dean took the stud between his teeth and pulled a little harder yet. He could feel the precome fucking dripping off of him onto the floor and Dean's tongue was back, lapping up everything he had to give.

The brush of fabric over his skin was like a live wire lighting up his nerves and he probably tore the shirt getting it off but fuck, he might never wear clothes again if Dean would just keep fucking him, sucking him. God, sucking him!

Dean's lips wrapped around the head of his cock was the hottest sight in the history of the world, it deserved textbook entries - in the beginning there was light, and then Dean Winchester sucked his brother's cock and all was right and good.

"Dean, I'm gonna - If you don't stop I'm fucking gonna," he tried to warn, his voice cracking in odd spots and stealing words. Suddenly that molten slickness slid right down to his base, Dean's lips hidden by dark curls and there wasn't air, there wasn't anything but Dean's fucking throat clenching around his fucking cock and YES!

Sam felt the wall moving behind him and it took a second to realize he was sliding down it, Dean holding onto his hips and slowly lowering him to the ground. Green eyes were bright, sparkling with pleasure and self-satisfaction and Dean's grin was almost blinding. Sam just leaned in and chased the flavor of his own come down Dean's throat.

Somewhere in all of that - maybe Sam had blacked out - Dean had managed to get his own shirt off and his pants undone, gorgeous thick cock jutting up from the denim and practically screaming for Sam.

"I think you said something about being in you," Dean waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Oh fuck yes," Sam moaned, shoving Dean backward until they were flat on the floor.

"Sammy, language," Dean pulled a mock-scandalized face and it was officially time to make Dean forget how to talk.

It was a bit of a struggle for Sam to get his pants all the way off now that his body had gone all loose but he finally managed it and straddled his brother’s hips.

"Here," he thrust two fingers at Dean's face, "you like to suck." He felt the shudder run through Dean's body beneath him and his fingers were sucked ferociously into tight, wet warmth. Sam's cock was beginning to twitch back to life as he pulled the digits free, Dean whining a little in his throat at the loss. The whine turned into a whimper as his eyes tracked Sam's hand, watching as it disappeared behind him and Sam didn't even try to keep the pleasure off his face as he slid both of them in to the knuckle. Dean wasn't the only one who could put on a show.

He had always opened up pretty easy for it, but Sam took his time anyway, now that the edge was off, to really watch what fingering himself open was doing to Dean. Wide hands were moving restlessly up and down his thighs, eyes flying between Sam's fingers and his swelling dick and his hazel gaze while his big brother's hips pumped uselessly, automatically, at empty air. Dean's tongue darted out over and over to slick his cherry-red, fucked-swollen lips and Sam was pretty impressed Dean was managing to be so patient. His fingers grazed his prostate, making him tighten his legs around Dean's hips and he hit it again hard just to watch Dean bite his lip at the look of Sam's face.

"You want it?" Sam teased, voice husky and thick. Dean's hips bucked wildly, head thrashing from side to side like Sam was killing him.

"Yes. God, fuck yes. Please, Sammy," he panted and Sam could really get used to having his brother begging. But for now, what he wanted was to be split wide around Dean's cock, so he shifted back and wrapped his hand around Dean's throbbing erection. He lined it up with his hole, tongue slicking over his teeth while he waited for Dean to get the picture. Those blown eyes shot wide when he did and then big hands were gripping Sam's hips, forcing him down until he was fully impaled on his brother.

Dean's fingers dug into him hard enough that he'd have a set of bruises and Sam knew he wouldn't be able to keep from pressing at them to relive this feeling over and over; so sweet, so full, so fucking deep. He slowly lifted himself until only the head was inside and then slammed back down fast, leaving them both gasping at the shock of pleasure. Sam leaned back just a fraction and -there! - had Dean's cock rocketing against his prostate, sending sharp bolts of heat bouncing from his toes to his scalp and back on every thrust.

God, Dean was beautiful like that and Sam kind of hated that he hadn't been able to see that perfect body the first time instead of his own. Golden skin tight over the rippling flex of muscles working desperately toward climax. Dean’s head was thrown back against the carpet, green eyes rolled up in his skull, sex-god mouth open and dragging in hungry gulps of air. He was moaning and panting, little snippets of words pouring too quiet and fast from those lips for Sam to ever really catch what they were. He caught 'love' and 'Sammy' and that was more than enough.

Sam held on the peak of a thrust, letting Dean grip his hips and pound up into him viciously, teeth clenched in a snarl of pleasure. His own dick was begging for attention, shimmering flashes of ecstasy from Dean inside him only escalating when he wrapped a hand around himself and started pumping hard. A twist on the upstroke, a quick flick of thumb across the head to catch and drag on the metal at the slit, and he was so fucking close all over again.

He opened his eyes when Dean whimpered, saw his brother's gaze locked on Sam's hand working himself, Dean never losing the rhythm of the slick slide in Sam's channel.

"Come in me, Dean, please," he gasped as the head sent another jolt through his sweet spot.

Dean's eyes snapped shut, fingers grinding into the bones of Sam's hips and Sam was being slammed down with all the force those strong arms could muster, Dean as far in him as he could get when Sam finally felt his brother's warmth spreading inside him.

Watching Dean fall to pieces was enough to have Sam spiraling into oblivion too, vision whiting out as his hand milked hot fluid out over his brother's chest.

Sam collapsed onto the floor next to Dean, sticky and sated and happier than he could remember being in way too long. Dean's hand found his on the carpet - still wet with his own come but Dean didn't seem to care - and he laced their fingers together. He'd never figured his brother for a hand holder, but it was turning out there was quite a bit he didn't know about his brother.

Then again, there was still a little Dean didn’t know about him either. Sam chuckled quietly to himself, wondering what Dean would think when he found out about the prince's wand.


End file.
